What do they say, sports are a metaphor for life?

I was only behind by two, and then Felice threw two through the hole and pummeled me.

Greetings from Los Angeles, where there’s a nip in the air but it’s nowhere near as frigid as it is on the east coast. Actually, it always gets cold after a storm, don’t ask me why, but that’s the science. I learned this from being a skier. You’re thrilled the flakes come down and you’re eager to hit the hill the next day, and then it’s in the single digits if not below zero and…

I always go out anyway. I’ve got the frostbitten skin to prove it. On the east coast you only go out for one run, you feel like you’ve beaten the elements, by time you’re down your feet are already frozen and you go inside for hot chocolate and you sit in your warm clothes and feel cocooned against the elements. That’s another thing that’s been lost in the wiring of society, that feeling of aloneness, alternately off-putting and rewarding. We humans need to be together, but we also need the concomitant time alone to let our brains process the thoughts, come to conclusions, think about where we’re going, ponder the human condition, marvel at the vastness of the world.

I went out for a hike in the rain last night. The key is not to slip, but without my music, unwilling to get my electronics wet, I was reminded of my past, being a Boy Scout, hiking. I was miserable but happy. I know, a conundrum. I was singing songs in my head, like I used to do in the pre-Walkman era. I had “Jesus Christ Superstar” stuck in my brain, I’m not sure why, other than it came out at this time back in 1970, one of the best ski seasons in Vermont, the winter of ’70-’71.

But now I do my skiing on the western side of the country and when we go to Vail in the summer the place is littered with cornhole boards. I hate to admit it, but my mind thought it was a scatological reference, but it’s probably just the farm, the bags filled with corn.

Anyway, after playing so many times in the summer, Felice bought us our own set.

It reminded me of growing up, when our garage was filled with sports equipment. Badminton nets… Remember trying to unroll those in the spring? All kinds of balls and bats and rackets… We set them up in the backyard where they stood all summer in the rain and the heat and got sun-bleached and those were the carefree days, are kids still as untethered today, or have electronics captured their brains like those of their parents?

I don’t know.

But Felice set up the cornhole boards and…

The instructions said 27′ apart. That seemed kind of distant to me. Then again, are the rules important? I must say, I’m a stickler for the rules, there’s no Free Parking money when we play Monopoly. But I learned that scoring is the difference between the two players, that was new to me, that was in the instructions, so we started to play and…

I’m not sure whether we’ve got a cheap set or it has to break in. The bags just didn’t slide. Maybe they will after the board gets shiny. Or maybe it was never supposed to be. And Felice got lucky and put one through the hole and then she was wildly missing…

We were just rallying, as they say in tennis.

But then we decided to play a game.

At first to 21, but when it was tied at 8, Felice said we should go to 11, that seemed fair.

Whereupon she put two in the hole and blew me away. There was no way I’d come back, she ended up beating me by five.

I can handle it. It’s not like we’re professionals.

But playing the game in the backyard today brought me back to who I once was. The thrill of competition, when you can think of nothing else, just focus on the game. The feeling of triumph when you put one through the hole. The exasperation when your body does not do what you want it to. When you realize this is all there is, some movement and the good times.

So the fam is coming over later and we’ll probably have a tournament. Someone will refuse to play. Someone will deem themselves the champion. And we’ll talk about the contest into the night.

Ain’t that America.

It’s all about the little things, the endless life continuum. It’s one long thread I tell you, and every once in a while you’re reminded of that.

Like today.